


Agitation

by cuddlesmonster



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Age Play, Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Comfort, Daddy!crowley, Diapers, Dummy - Freeform, Little!Aziraphale, Non-Sexual Age Play, bottle feeding, nappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:48:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24396037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuddlesmonster/pseuds/cuddlesmonster
Summary: Aziraphale is feeling worried and working himself up. Daddy helps him calm down.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 129





	Agitation

Aziraphale was agitated. Crowley could see him from the corner of his eye as he gazed at the screen of his phone. He was pacing around the space of the back room. He lifted things; books, teacups, pieces of paper. He would fiddle with them, move them from one hand to the other, walk with them a few paces and then drop them absent-mindedly in a new location, where they decidedly did not belong. More than once Crowley had found his keys on a bookshelf, in the sink, under a pile of papers, which had also been moved from their original resting place. It was what Aziraphale did. One of his ways of giving vent to the anxieties and insecurities that would sometimes assail him. He would create mess.

Other times he would make cup of tea after cup of tea, setting them down on various coasters dotted around the place, then forgetting about them and making another. Or he would rearrange the books in his bookshop, changing the layout to suit his whims and prevent customers actually buying his books. Or he would go on a baking spree, creating literally thousands of tiny buns, scones, cakes and breads. Or he would… ask for the other thing. 

The agitation was growing more pronounced but Crowley was absorbed in his phone. Aziraphale’s fumbling hands became shakier. His bottom lip began to tremble and he began to bite at it in an unconscious attempt to stop. He pulled on a loose thread dangling from a ragged cushion, making it even more raggedy. And all the while darting little glances at Crowley; his eyes flitting from what he was doing to the engrossed demon and back. His lips parted several times, as if he was going to speak or call out. But each time they pressed shut again, tongue flicking out to wet them before the trembling and the biting repeated. He paced closer to Crowley, then back across the room. He did it again. And again. Coming closer each time, until, quite some time later, he was standing right in front of him. And Crowley looked up.

The sudden movement of cream cloth three inches from his knee had startled him and he looked at Aziraphale slightly dazed. Then his gaze sharpened. Aziraphale looked equally shocked that he had managed to attract Crowley’s attention, even if, unconsciously, that had been his aim. His mouth fell open slightly, which only highlighted how badly it was trembling. His eyes grew to twice their size, it seemed, and tears threatened to appear at the corners, but didn’t. Yet. A flash of fear danced across Aziraphale’s face. Then a flash of steely determination. Then uncertainty. His teeth came together as if he wanted to say something. A word. The beginnings of a D. But nothing came out. The threat of tears grew.

Crowley’s voice was low and soothing. 

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” A pause, and then. “Do you need help with your clothes?”

Relief flooded Aziraphale’s glassy eyes. His cheeks flushed and he nodded with jerky, little movements. A fretful nod, on the edge of tears.

Crowley cooed, gently guiding Aziraphale’s fingers away from the hem of his waistcoat as he stood.

“That’s okay baby, come upstairs and we’ll get you all sorted out. Come on now, come with Daddy.”

An audibly wet sigh came from Aziraphale, broken and wavery. He clung to Crowley’s sleeve as he stumbled behind him, pressing his face into Crowley’s shoulder.

Crowley clucked his tongue sympathetically.

“Someone’s feeling very little this afternoon, aren’t they? Up you come sweetheart”.

Strong arms slipped free of Aziraphale’s grasp and snaked their way behind his legs and under his backside. His feet left the ground and instinctively curled around Crowley’s waist as he was scooped up onto a bony hip. Crowley gently bounced the little angel in his arms a few times and pressed a kiss to the crown of Aziraphale’s head.

“There we go,” he cooed into the mass of white curls. “There we go”.

He continued to murmur nonsense phrases as they mounted the stairs. He could hear Aziraphale’s breath start to hitch as they entered the bedroom and little snuffles started emanating from his shoulder. Crowley started to rock from side to side making shushing noises and pressing more kisses to Aziraphale’s temple.

“It’s okay, you’re okay. Daddy’s got you”.

A towel was laid out on the bed with a packet of baby wipes and other supplies that were just expected to be there.

More coos fell from Crowley’s lips as he slowly lowered Aziraphale onto his back and settled him on the towel. A soft smile made the corners of his eyes crinkle in contentment. Aziraphale stared tearfully back at him. His face was flushed red and had a pinched look to it. The tremor still worried his bottom lip. His eyes were large and wet. There was still a sense of anxiety about him but, Crowley mused, it was open discomfort. There was no attempt to hide it with fidgeting or pacing. Aziraphale was looking straight at him, letting him see the tears and discomfort. Allowing him to fix it.

Crowley gently tapped his forefinger against the tip of Aziraphale’s nose.

“There he is,” he intoned. “There’s my little boy. Are you all ready for Daddy to help you? Such a brave boy, being so good in those big-boy clothes! But Daddy thinks it’s time for a change, don’t you sweetheart?”

Aziraphale gave a watery nod, plucking again at his waistcoat.

Crowley’s smile grew to a broad grin.

“That’s my good boy”.

Long bony fingers popped the buttons on Aziraphale’s waistcoat free of their button holes. Undid his bow tie. Slipped the shirt sleeves down his arms, then gently grabbed his wrists and pulled him upright. A long arm held his shoulders securely as the clothes were removed completely, then lowered him back down. All to the tune of soothing murmurs.

Aziraphale’s fingers were in his mouth. He wasn’t sure how or when they had got there, but there they were. The sucking noises attracted Crowley’s attention and a slight crease formed on his forehead.  
“No, no, no, sweetheart. Dirty”. A dummy appeared from nowhere and was pushed between Aziraphale’s lips. “Have this instead, little love”.

Aziraphale gave it a firm, slow suck. Quiet gurgling floated across the short space between them. Crowley smiled.

“Someone’s becoming a bit more talkative. That’s my baby”.

More gurgling from behind the dummy. Aziraphale’s eyes seemed to have completely glazed over. Slowly the tension was relaxing from his shoulders, his arms, his fingers. Spreading out and leaving him floppy and content. He hummed placidly as Crowley shifted him about, blinking up at the ceiling, mind blissfully blank.

Somewhere, through the fog, it filtered through to him that he was cold. He looked down at Crowley, bemused to see the curve of his own naked thighs and Crowley folding light-brown trousers he didn’t remember being taken off. He was however aware of the waistband of his pants being grasped and, without thinking, a pudgy hand shot out.

Crowley froze. Aziraphale’s fingers were grabbing his own and Aziraphale looked confused as to how they had got there. Their eyes met. Aziraphale’s were wide, panicked. He didn’t know what to do. Crowley said nothing. He slowly took his hands away. Aziraphale let out a distressed whimper. 

“Do you not want a nappy, sweetheart?” Crowley’s voice was low and soothing. “You don’t have to have one. We can finish up now and go for a nice cuddle, yeah? Shall we do that?”

Aziraphale shook his head emphatically, screwing up his face. His cheeks were red and a few fat tears were making their way towards his chin.

“Hey now, shush darling. You’re okay”.

Crowley swiped a thumb across the tear-damp cheek.

“Did Daddy startle you? Is that it, precious? I’m sorry, sweet thing, Daddy didn’t mean to”.

Aziraphale nuzzled into the hand still stroking his face. He gave a wet sniffle. Then softly whispered “I… I want a nappy, Daddy”.

A wide grin split Crowley’s face.

“Then a nappy you shall have, my little darling. Let’s get you all cosy, yeah? All nice and wrapped up, there’s a boy”.

This time Aziraphale let his pants be slipped down his legs with no protest. He looked away as his effort was revealed: small and chubby, resting against the curve of his legs. Crowley rubbed his thigh encouragingly pressing a kiss to the inside of his knee. Aziraphale felt his hips being lifted and fresh, white cotton being placed under them. He blushed again as dexterous hands began to rub nappy cream all over his intimate areas. Once Crowley was satisfied Aziraphale was in no danger of a rash he finally brought the front flap up between his legs. More tension seemed to melt from Aziraphale’s body as he was covered. As each tab was fastened he felt more secure and relaxed further, making little cooing noises Crowley was certain he wasn’t aware he was making. His tears had dried to sticky residue making his eyelashes clump into little peaks. He blinked up fuzzily at Crowley.

“There he is,” Crowley breathed.

Strong arms once again reached for Aziraphale and clutched him to a bony chest. Eyelids drooping Aziraphale rested his cheek in the crook of Crowley’s neck as he was carried across the room. Crowley settled them both into a well-worn rocking chair and began to push one foot against the floor slowly rocking his baby. Aziraphale felt a kiss against the top of his curls. He felt warm. He didn’t want to ever move again. He wanted to stay like this for the rest of time.

But a long finger slipped into the ring of Aziraphale’s dummy and pulled. He gave a whine of protest. Something that was not his dummy pressed against his lips nudging gently but insistently until he relented and let it in. He registered the familiar teat of his bottle and began to suck greedily as Crowley chuckled over him.

“I thought that might change your mind”.

Aziraphale’s eyes, huge, stared up at his daddy from behind his bottle. He was incredibly content and gurgled to convey this to his daddy. Streams of milk spilt from his lips and were soon wiped away by Crowley’s thumb, just as the tears had been. Aziraphale felt completely at ease. Any stress or agitation from earlier was simply no longer present. The rhythmic sucking on his bottle; the comforting, warm thickness of the nappy between his legs. His eyes began to droop more heavily. And more frequently. He wasn’t aware of Crowley pulling the bottle away from him. He was already fast asleep.  
And he felt loved.


End file.
